


Accustomed to Standing Alone

by DawnsEternalLight



Series: A Study in Brotherhood [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherhood, Damian Wayne Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Damian has been Robin for a while, and Damian Wayne for longer. What he hasn't been is kidnapped as Damian Wayne. He could easily escape, except he's not sure if he should, would that betray his secret identity or prove to Grayson he's fit to be both Robin and a part of the family?





	Accustomed to Standing Alone

This was wrong. Not the fact that Damian had been taken, or that it had been at a public event. Even his missing the last half of the Gotham Knights game wasn’t the problem (despite it being his first experience with the overly long sport). No, everything about Damian’s current circumstances contradicted his experience.

This kidnapping went against everything he knew. Damian’s experience did not tell him that kidnappers tied loose bindings over his wrists, or used flimsy blindfolds to prevent his seeing them drive him to a cheap motel. Kidnappings were not gentle. They were violent and painful. They were fear and a rush to escape. As lacking in gentleness as his captors had been in moving him from the car to the room he’d been dropped in, it was nothing compared to the time’s he’d been taken from the League. 

It would be laughably easy to escape from his bindings and return to the game before Grayson even noticed his absence. Except Damian wasn’t sure that was the best option. This was the first time he’d been taken as Damian Wayne, and Grayson had not yet discussed proper kidnapping protocols with him, he'd mentioned he should but time had not allowed for the discussion to take place. All Damian had to go off of was Grayson's insistence that keeping his identity a secret was paramount. So far, that had only applied to Damian resisting throttling thugs in public. It was Grayson’s constant reiteration of the subject that kept Damian from slipping off the uncomfortable ropes and leaving this embarrassing situation.

He shifted against the wall he was sitting against, and pulled his knees a little closer to him, the movement settling him in the darkness made by the scratchy blindfold tied over his eyes. His hands were starting to fall asleep behind him, so he stretched his fingers, feeling a roughly painted base board behind him, bumps and large blobs of dried paint slipping under his fingers as they woke tingling. 

The first time Damian had been kidnapped he’d been three years old. He had been taken from his nanny in the middle of the night by enemies of his mother. He remembered very little from the event beyond being terrified, his nanny had been running, shaking him, with their safety being replaced by harsh, callused, hands grabbing at him. Words were screamed in his terrified face, and he remembered being hit, his head hurting through the whole ordeal. He’d been cold and cried until he was made to stop, everything around him so much more alien than what he'd known.

The brightest part of the memory was his mother. Later, he'd learned of her vengeance on the men who’d taken him to use against her, but in the moment, all he’d cared about were the safe, warm arms ensconcing his shaking body. He'd held onto his mother’s gentle voice, gentler than he’d probably ever hear it again, soothing his fears and quieting the tears that started again at her appearance. A hand in his hair, smoothing back tangles and sweat. 

He let his head fall back against the wall behind him, now letting his feet slide forward slowly, the toes of his shoes touching a door in seconds. He was in a closet then, the carpet under his palms thin and rough. The temptation was strong to untie himself and escape, but he stayed put. 

He was still unsure that choosing to stay was the right idea. Mother wouldn’t have approved. Damian was trained to be the best, and the best did not allow themselves to be held against their wills. Would Grayson think that his kidnapping was a sign he was not fit to be Robin? Was his foolishness in being caught mid-day proof that he was too much trouble to be a part of his current family? If that were the case, the only thing to rectify the situation was Damian extracting himself from it. The last thing he wanted to do was be cast out because of something as foolish as this.

He’d heard nothing in the past hour that he’d been in the closet, no movement from outside or muffled voices, nothing to indicate there were even people in the room beyond. He chafed at the idea of subjecting himself to hours more of sitting in the cramped closet letting his wrists be rubbed raw by the ropes. His eyes itching behind the blindfold.

The whole kidnapping still rang wrong to Damian. It was too gentle. He knew Gotham did things differently, but after the time he’d spent there he was fairly certain he knew how the criminals of the city worked. They were not kind or good or soft, even if they were not the kind of cruel Damian had grown up with. Still, he had learned to expect the worst if he was foolish enough to be kidnapped.

He’d learned that lesson when he was six and a kidnapping attempt against him was successful. No one kidnapped him to take something from his mother. They did not go after him for money or favors. They were driven by revenge. The desire to hurt Mother after she had hurt them. To do this, they took Damian, her weak link, and they hurt him. He’d woken up that time in pain. It did not stop until he’d managed to escape and find his way back home. 

Mother knew the reason for the kidnapping. For any of them. Damain was to be punished in lieu of her, and she’d very quickly refused to save him from the situations. Outwardly she told her people it was because she refused to deal with kidnappers. To him she claimed it was training. He had to be capable of protecting himself if he was going to fulfill his destiny. Damian hadn’t yet decided how he felt about his mother’s actions, he wasn't sure he'd ever decide. 

He’d rescued himself then, and as many times after as he needed to. Worry struck him then that these kidnappers would do the same thing. That perhaps the reason they had not forced him to create some kind of ransom message yet was because he was being kept until they could contact Grayson a different way. Then they would hurt him, make him bleed in an attack against his new family. He refused to stay and find himself at their mercy if that was the case. He would not be helpless against his captors or used against the people he was only just now starting to find his place with. 

He groped around in the closet for anything sharp, if he could plausibly convince his kidnappers he’d escaped with the help of something else, his identity would be safe. It wasn’t common for children and adults to rescue themselves from a kidnapping, but it did happen.  

He located a loose screw and let himself smile. He made quick work of the ropes and pulled his blindfold off, the difference between it and the dark closet was negligible, but he didn’t care. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to scare away the phantom feel of the the scratchy cloth. He pushed himself to his feet, his thoughts on one thing: taking himself home. Perhaps he’d even be back in time to assist Grayson with patrol. Batman needed his Robin after all.

There was no light coming from under the door and after a few moments pressing his ear to the door he heard nothing. He eased it open and found a darkening room beyond, dingy and cheap, exactly like he’d expect of the motel he’d assumed he’d been taken to. There was another door, this one lit under it that probably lead to a common room and his kidnappers.

Damian resisted the urge to go through that door and teach the kidnappers a lesson, but Grayson’s voice was in his head reminding him that anything that could put their identities at risk should be avoided. He turned towards the window instead and checked the lock. There was a flimsy latch on it that Damian flipped open.

He had the window slid halfway up, his attention already on how he was going to hot wire their car and figure out his way back to the penthouse, when he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and lifted off his feet. Stupid _stupid_ Damian. He’d been so eager to get out, and escape that he’d completely blocked out listening for the kidnappers, passing them off for imbeciles and letting them sneak up on him  _again._

“What’ve we got here?” the voice was gruff, the same one that had lured him away from Grayson at the game.

Damian squirmed in his grip, hands going to the man’s wrist, fingers automatically reaching for the the soft spots on his hand and wrist that would make him drop him. Damian stopped himself from pressing into them. He’d been caught, and as passable as his escape attempt had been, there was no way he could talk himself out of expertly escaping the man’s grasp now that he had it.

“How’d you get out?” he asked, shaking Damian slightly and rattling his head. 

“I told you we should have locked the door on the closet.” A different, female, voice said.

Damian saw her as the man holding him turned, carrying him along with him. He’d heard her voice in the car, the driver, he thought. He hadn’t heard any other voices, but with his continuous stream of failures over the course of the day he wouldn’t be surprised if another one stepped out of the other room. It was simply the way his luck was moving. 

“What do you want to do with him?” the man asked.

“I can hear you.” Damian grumbled, a little irritated to be talked around, and glaring at the woman.

“Yes, and you just tried to get away, I wouldn’t remind us of your presence any more than you already have.” The woman told him, crossing her arms.

Damian ruffled at her dismissal, but let his mouth close. She was obviously the leader, with the man as the muscle. Hr could take the man, but the woman was more dangerous. The quieter, ones always were. Damian had learned that the hard way time and again while he was with his mother. He had no way of knowing if she was carrying a weapon on her, and he was tired of underestimating them. He settled on waiting out her pronouncement. 

She eyed him for a moment, “Tie him back up, and lock the closet this time.” She dismissed, before holding up her hand. “Actually, don’t put him in the closet. I want him where we can keep an eye on him. We don’t want him getting away again.”

“Yes, do that." Damian scoffed, "If your last attempt at keeping me here is anything to go by, you will need to keep an eye on me. As I’ve just proved that even a child could escape from you.” He sneered as he said the last words, feeling happy to at least lash out in some way.

She smirked at him, “You seem to think you escaped, but here you are still with us.”

The woman then turned her attention to the man holding Damian, “Don’t worry about being gentle with him, and gag him. I’d rather he not talk himself into any more trouble.”

The man took her word for it and hefted Damian under his arm, before moving into the lit room. Damian blinked at the difference in light. He caught sight of a shoddy couch and tv stand that looked like it was about to fall apart before he was shoved roughly against the ground as his hands and legs were bound and a gag dragged across his mouth. Last to come was the blindfold, the man's hand pressed into his back as he directed the woman to retrieve it from the closet. Damian's vision of carpet more browned by age than design was cut off finally as the scratchy cloth was returned to his face.

He spent the next few hours seething in a corner of the room where he’d been dropped. At least that’s what he told himself he was doing. He’d tried to pay attention to the conversation between his captors, but they went for long periods without talking, and when anyone spoke up- usually the man- neither spoke about anything Damian could deem useful.

Most of the time his mind drifted. He wanted to be angry. A part of him was, but it was hard to hold onto sitting in his dusty corner, unable to interact with anything, isolated even in a room with others in it. He felt helpless and alone. Frustration ate at him, at himself, his situation, his captors, at the lack of noise in the room, anything he could lash out at mentally. 

His chest had an odd feeling in it, a tight ball of pain that he’d rarely felt. Usually it came when he’d failed to the highest degree. When a mission went wrong, when he'd lost a target, when Mother gave him that look. He hated that he was hoping Grayson would save him. Hated relying on the man, even though Damian still wasn't sure where he stood with him. Hated that his identity meant he was forced to sit here, in equally pitiful bonds as before, and be watched by two idiots who couldn’t tie a knot properly. He wanted to save himself. Wanted to untie his bonds and teach his kidnappers a lesson. The helpless feeling of sitting there, alone with himself made him sick. 

His mother had to rescue him only one other time after his first kidnapping. That time, Damian had done everything in his power to escape and had still failed. He’d resigned himself to the painful death his captors had planned, accepting that this was what he deserved. He’d failed. And failture meant death. Mother would not come for him. She had drilled into him that failure wasn’t an option, failure would not be rewarded with rescue.  

She surprised him by coming. It took three days. Three days of Damian attempting to escape and being caught. Three days of pain and suffering and terror. Off and on he’d hoped for rescue, nursed it like water given to a man in the desert, and then let it go with trembling hands when he realized it was only a mirage. By the time she’d arrived he’d given up hope, wishing for death to come soon.

That same fear that no one was coming for him inched its way into his mind as he sat. He had no reason to expect Grayson to come for him. Mother had only done it because his captors had promised to make Damian’s death public. As far as he knew these fools hadn’t even called to make a ransom demand yet.

Damian was not worth rescuing. He knew this. Who would come for a boy so easily lured by a cry for help, that allowed hands to brace his arms and strangers to drag him from a public place. Who could not even garner the attention of strangers well enough to alert them to a problem. And even if Grayson somehow found him worthy to rescue, would he agree to whatever worth was placed on Damian's safe return? Or would it be too much for him. The final straw in a line of Damian's faults and failures?

He was well aware that Grayson was taking care of him out of a sense of duty to Father’s memory. The man who called himself his brother had told Damian many times that he cared, and was interested in Damian’s well being. He’d told Damian he loved him time and again. There were times that Damian believed him. Times he enjoyed the man’s attention, the way they worked together, and the comradery they’d built between themselves on patrol. He’d been secretly excited to go to the Knights game. Grayson’s own excitement had been infectious. To Damian it had felt like a part of his Father and brother’s life had been opened up to him that he hadn’t been able to experience before.

It had been fun, until he’d been kidnapped, and that itself was the reason Damian wasn’t sure Grayson would come for him. He’d foolishly let his guard down at a public event. He should have been paying attention. What else could be proof to Grayson that Damian wasn’t worth it? He should be capable all the time, not just on patrol. He was weak. A loose end. And these fools had proved it to Grayson.

Damian pulled his legs closer to his chest, a feat made more difficult by them being bound than he wanted to admit. His throat was tight, face hot. He wanted to go home. He wanted Grayson to care. Wanted Grayson to smile at him and tell him everything was okay. That Mother was wrong and it was okay to need to be rescued sometimes. He wanted to be wrong about everything. 

“Kid’s quiet.” The man said, after a while.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not listening.” His partner responded, and a page turned. She’d been reading forever, Damian wasn’t surprised she hadn’t finished whatever book she’d been working her way through by now.

“Come on, he’s obviously asleep, not a peep in forever, and his breathing’s all deep. Doesn’t that mean someone's asleep?”

The book closed and a chair scraped before heels approached Damian. He could feel the heat of the woman’s body as she leaned over him, looking for signs of him being awake. Damian was sure to keep his breathing even, and his reactions null, especially when she tapped on his shoulder.

“Don’t, you’ll wake him.” The man sounded frustrated. “Then we’ll have to keep writing everything. I’m tired of reading your scribble.”

“As if yours is any better.” There was irritation in the woman’s voice as she stood again and made her way back to wherever she’d been sitting.

A moment later a door, probably the front, crashed open. This time Damian flinched back, pressing closer to the corner. He had no idea who’d crashed in or what they wanted, he had equally less clues as to what his captors would do. He brace himself to be dragged to his feet. 

The familiar voice of Commissioner Gordon called out for the people inside to give themselves up. Disappointment washed over Damian, a wave of sick swelling in his stomach. Batman hadn’t come for him. It was late enough for him to come out, and yet he’d decided other things were more worth his attention. It should not be a surprise. Had Damian not already realized that he wasn't worth it? And still, tears that sprung up at the realization he’d been so easily passed aside, that Grayson didn’t even care enough to come for him. He felt the blindfold get damp, even as he tried to pull the tears back, he wouldn't cry, couldn't fail again. 

Then Grayson’s voice cut through the scuffle angry and furious, and Damian’s heartbeat picked up, a staccato beat against his rib cage of disbelief and joy at being wrong. The man cried out as a fist connected (hopefully) with his face. Damian had heard the sound of a fist connecting with flesh often enough to recognize it even blindfolded, and when he heard it now there was no doubt in his mind who’d thrown the punch.

“Stop, we’ve got them.” Gordon's tone was impatient, yet held a note of pride, “Find the kid.”

Damian wondered then if the corner he’d been stuck in was more out of the way than he’d imagined sitting there for hours. He had no working knowledge of what the room even looked like, beyond the brief glimpse of couch and tv, only the feeling of a wall on each of his shoulders, and the small empty space behind him.

He made a sound, he wouldn’t admit was panicked and desperate, but it was on the verge. All his emotions were clambering inside him as he suddenly wanted to be free, and to know exactly what was going on. He wanted to feel safe in the midst of the confusion filling the room. He wanted Grayson to pick him up. And he wanted the stupid, itchy blindfold to be gone for good. 

“Damian?”

Grayson was by his side, his hands gentle as he pulled the blindfold and gag off before getting to work on the ropes. The moment he was free of his bonds Grayson pulled him into his lap, his arms warm and strong around him, pressing him close to his chest. Damian ignored the tingling in his wrists, wrapping his arms tightly around Grayson's middle, grounding himself in the fact that this was happening. He was fine. Grayson was here. 

“You’re okay.” Dick breathed, hand running through Damian’s hair. “I wasn’t sure we’d find you.”

He pulled back and looked Damian over, hand brushing across his cheek. “You hurt?”

Damian shook his head, and Grayson pulled him close again. Damian relaxed into the embrace. Grayson had come for him. He’d come as himself and not Batman. As Damian’s brother, someone who could stay by his side through any proceedings that would have to sit through before he could go home. Someone who could comfort Damian.

He should feel guilty about showing so much weakness, but the logical side of his mind told him this was exactly how any scared child would react in his situation. That and he wasn’t sure how he really felt. So he tightened his hols and allowed Grayson to lift him up, snuggling him close in his arms and carry him out of the building. He pressed his face into Grayson’s chest, not caring to see the building or any of the men the passed. He just wanted to go home. The more they moved, and the longer he let himself be carried the more exhaustion pressed into him. He was tired, his emotions and the events of the day draining him of the will to even examine his surroundings.  

As much as he wanted it, he couldn’t go home yet. There were things that had to be done. Damian knew this. He’d watched other kids go through it. Grayson let go of him long enough for paramedics to look over him and tell him exactly what he already knew, that he was fine. Shaken up, but fine.

He was not fine. Everything in him was all mixed up. The kidnapping had confused him. Grayson coming for him had been welcomed, but beyond his expectations. Everything Grayson was currently doing was baffling. Mother hadn’t done this, not when he was three and especially not when he’d been older.

Grayson pulled him back into his arms the moment the paramedics were done, acting as his own kind of human security blanket. Damian didn’t want to leave those arms.

There was something about it being Grayson who’d come to save him, and who’d untied him. Grayson who’d fretted over him and had been furious for him. Grayson who was even now sitting with him as Damian gave halting answers to the commissioner about his experience that broke something in Damian.

One minute he was sitting next to Grayson, talking about how he’d been caught trying to escape out the window, and the next large confused tears filled with the pain and fear of the past hours, and the frustration of not understanding flowed out of him. His chest heaved uncontrollably until the only thing intelligible he could get out were babbled pleas to go home. They were released, with the promise of a visit the next day. Damian didn’t care about the next day, all he wanted was quiet, and safety, and to rest in the fact that Grayson had come for him, beyond everything else there was that truth.

At some point, on the way home he had fallen asleep exhausted from the fear and confusion and his war against the man’s gentle affirmations of comfort. Against his promise that Damian was safe. That no one would hurt him. That he'd done nothing wrong. That he was loved.

He’d fallen asleep with the arguments against all that on his lips. He couldn't be loved. He had failed. He had needed rescuing, and comfort. In the short span between his rescue and his attempt at answering the Commissioners questions he'd fallen prey to the worst of weaknesses, he had broken down in hysterical sobs that has required him to be removed, coddled in Grayson's arms and soothed. He’d refused to listen to Grayson’s words, assuming them to be a lie benefiting them in the view of the police.

He woke as Grayson was tucking him into his bed, and reached out blindly for one of his hands.

“Mother.” He pleaded.

“You’re safe.” Dick promised, and his grip on Damian’s hand tightened.

“Grayson?” Damian asked, opening his eyes to see the truth, even as his brother hummed an affirmation.

The emotions that had been building in Damian before he’d fallen asleep had all collected together into guilt. He’d put Grayson through so much, forcing him to rescue Damian, and putting the weight of his wellbeing on his brother. He’d even allowed himself to break down in front of Grayson.

His mother wouldn’t have approved of a single one of his actions that day. He was sure he’d messed up too much for Grayson to approve of him. He had to explain that he’d tried, and that if he’d known what he was supposed to do—well Mother wouldn’t accept the excuse, but perhaps Grayson would.

He pushed himself up in the bed so he could look at Grayson. “I’m sorry.” He said, he refused to let himself break down again and worked to keep his voice strong.

“Damian it’s okay.” Grayson said, but Damian wasn’t listening, he’d started his explanation and he had to finish it.

 “I—I tried to get away. I didn’t want to fail you, but I didn’t know what to do. You said we had to keep our identities safe, and I tried, but I didn’t want you to have to save me.” Damian was rambling, but Dick had to know he wasn’t dead weight. “I’m sorry. Mother expected more of me, and I know you probably want me gone, but I promise, Grayson, I can do—”

Dick dragged him into a hug and cut off whatever he was going to say next. Damian gaped at the gesture.

“I am not mad.” Grayson said, carefully. “I never was, not at you.”

Damian was too surprised to fight his brother’s hug. He’d thought everything Grayson had said with the police around had been for them, and them alone.

“The last thing I want is you gone. You didn’t fail me, Damian. You’re a kid, I’d never ask you to save yourself from something like this.” Dick pulled away to look him over. “I’m responsible for your safety, and I will always _always_ come for you alright?”  

His fingers were teasing tangles out of Damian’s hair, and all the emotions from the night turned into exhaustion. Damian was tired, and Grayson’s words were starting to sink in. He _had_ come for Damian. He had, not Batman or just the police, but Grayson had been there. He’d been angry for Damian, and then gentle with him. Every one of his other actions had pointed to the truth of all his words.  

“You don’t think I failed? Me not getting away was okay?” Damian asked.

Dick smiled at him. “You did wonderfully. With a little more luck, you probably would have even gotten away. Those guys were chumps.”

Damian let himself smile. “They were.” He agreed.

“I’m sorry you missed the rest of the game. This was a pretty crummy way to spend your first time seeing the Kights.” Dick told him, his voice gentle. “We’ll have to make it up, maybe not their next game, since it's so close, but the one after that.”

Damian nodded, the soothing motion of Grayson’s hand in his hair, and the release of his worry both lulling him into a rest he didn’t think he’d be able to get hours earlier. He didn’t want to move away from Grayson’s hand in his hair, but he wanted to lay back down.

His brother seemed to sense what he needed and chuckled. “Get some rest, kiddo. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He ruffled Damian’s hair and let go.

Damian eased back onto his pillow and yawned. “Thank you for coming for me, Grayson.”

His brother leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Always.”

“Stay until I’m asleep?” Damian asked.

“If it wasn’t such a traumatic experience I’d let you get kidnapped all the time, it makes you so cuddly.” Grayson joked.

Damian gave him a scowl he knew looked more sleepy than threatening and waved him off. “Go then, I’ll be fine.”

“Nah, you asked and I’ll stay. I’m not one to waste good bonding time.”

Damian ignored him and snuggled closer into his pillow, already nodding off. For the first time since he’d come to Gotham, maybe even since he was very young, he felt safe. It was because of Grayson, and he promised himself that if he could, he’d do everything in his power to repay his brother for that feeling. Just as soon as he had the energy to do so.


End file.
